


Spotlight

by paigeafterpaige



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paigeafterpaige/pseuds/paigeafterpaige
Summary: It’s been three months — three unusually long months — since he last saw him, but Jooheon hasn’t forgotten that face. If he thought the man was pretty the first time he saw him — covered in a sheen of grease and weighed down by a blanket of exhaustion — it’s nothing compared to the way he looks now. He’s absolutely breathtaking, much too handsome to grace Jooheon’s shabby store with his blinding presence.





	Spotlight

Jooheon remembers the first time he saw him. It was a warm night in May, the sun already having set but the temperature hinting of a hot summer to come. It had been raining earlier in the evening, leaving small puddles glistening on the pavement under the streetlights.

He remembers looking up at the familiar ding of the automatic doors sliding open, at the way the man sluggishly dragged his feet through the doors. Jooheon greeted him welcome in his cheery, professional voice, dimples on show. The man's platinum blond hair was greasy and unkempt, the bags under his eyes dark and deep. He remembers how his tired, red-rimmed eyes avoided his own.

The man went to the back of the small convenience store to grab a bottle of soju, then cup noodles. He changed his mind and went back for another bottle. He shuffled his feet to Jooheon's end of the store and dumped it all on the counter in front of him. The man raked a weary hand through his hair almost self-consciously. A deep sigh slipped through dry, cracked lips.

Jooheon remembers that as he scanned the man's purchases, he could feel eyes on him. He raised his head when he told the man the total and looking at him from up-close like that -- face-to-face -- could see that he was around his own age. He noticed undoubtedly bright eyes covered by a film of exhaustion and prettily shaped lips. He wondered what those lips would look like stretched in a smile, then realized he was staring. He fumbled with the man's change and shot him an apologetic smile, earning a small one in return. So, that's how.

When the man opened his bag to put away his purchases, Jooheon spotted a bundle of fliers inside. He remembers thinking that the art exhibition advertised on them looked strangely familiar, remembers wanting to take a closer look at them, but the bag was already shut, fliers gone, along with the man.

But strongest of all, he remembers wanting to see that young man again, even if only to make sure he would be okay. He wished he would be one day able to see that exhausted man with greasy hair and tired smile again. It didn't make sense, he didn't know him, had never seen him before. However, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself ready to go all in for just another glimpse of him.

#

Jooheon is stocking the refrigerated shelves with kimbap and lunch boxes when he hears the telltale bell of the store's doors opening and the inevitable squeaking of shoes on the floor as someone enters. He shouts out a welcome but doesn't bother looking up from where he's squatting on the floor. He can hear the person walking through the shelves, open the door to the drinks' fridge. The person approaches the shelf he's in front of, stops right next to him by the half-empty display of triangle kimbap. From out of the corner of his eye, Jooheon sees it's a man. He looks down at the pair of feet a mere half a meter from his own, notices absentmindedly that they are wearing the same kind of sneakers.

"Are you out of tuna-mayonnaise triangle kimbap?"

Jooheon looks up at the sound of the man's question, meets a pair of brilliant eyes already observing him with both kindness and curiosity from above. The man's eyebrows are raised slightly as he awaits an answer, pretty lips stretched into a friendly smile.

Jooheon loses balance where he's squatting on the floor and quickly thrusts a hand behind him as support to keep from falling over on his bum. It's been three months -- three unusually long months -- since he last saw him, but Jooheon hasn't forgotten that face. He believes he would be able to recognize him anywhere, spot him in a crowd of hundreds, point him out among doppelgängers.

The man's hair is still the same pale blond color it was all those months ago, but it's clean now, styled messily on purpose, part of his forehead visible between soft-looking strands of hair Jooheon wants to reach out and touch. The eye bags are gone, his eyes are bright, his lips pink and shiny. If Jooheon thought he was pretty the first time he saw him -- covered in a sheen of grease and weighed down by a blanket of exhaustion -- it's nothing compared to the way he looks now. He's absolutely breathtaking, much too handsome to grace Jooheon's shabby store with his blinding presence.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the man says, looking apologetically down at Jooheon. "I just wanted to know if there are any more tuna-mayonnaise triangle kimbap."

Jooheon realizes the man must have mistaken his shock over seeing him again for having scared him, which is just as well. He quickly scrambles to his feet, cheeks burning, and digs around in the crate of fresh kimbap he hasn't yet placed on the shelves. He finds what the man asked for and holds it out to him. The man smiles bright like Jooheon just made his day and his fingers graze against Jooheon's as he accepts the kimbap. "Thanks!"

"Uh, yeah," Jooheon mutters and instantly curses his apparent inability to speak properly in front of Mr Beautiful.

The man turns around and heads to the register with a spring in his step. Jooheon can't help but admire his tall, slim body so unlike his own, even if they're about the same height. The man looks back over his shoulder and finds Jooheon's eyes which are still looking in his direction like an obsessed stalker or a girl awestruck at seeing her favorite celebrity and laughs lightly. He waves the kimbap and a drink at Jooheon. "I'd like to pay, please."

Jooheon blushes crimson and hurries after him to get behind his counter and ring him up. He fumbles with the scanner and drops the man's change on the floor, but the smile he receives in spite of his clumsiness is bright and Jooheon thinks he might be losing his mind.

#

The first thing Jooheon notices about him this time is that he has dyed his hair. It's now dark brown, the shade matching Jooheon's own.

It's been two months since he last saw him, the days are getting colder, but Jooheon's body feels warm as their eyes meet.

The kind, old man who comes in every other day just to talk to him is telling him a story about the war. Usually Jooheon would pay attention, nod at the right moments, ask questions every now and then, but today he finds his eyes following his other customer around the store as he aimlessly winds up and down the shelves. The young man is looking through the newest issue of a sports magazine as the old man describes how he ambushed the enemy, he's reading the ingredients list of a bag of candy as the old man imitates the sound of an exploding grenade, he's counting the different kinds of drinks in the fridge as the old man lets Jooheon know in detail how much blood gushed out of the neck of his fellow soldier as his head was blown off.

Fifteen minutes later, the old man leaves.

Fifteen seconds later, the young man approaches Jooheon, thrusts a bottled soft drink at him. "Is this one limited edition?"

Jooheon eyes the large text at the top of the label clearly spelling out those very words. "That's right," he stupidly answers in English, for no reason at all.

"Hm..." The man shrugs, flashes him a grin. "Thanks!" Jooheon feels himself smile slightly in response, earning himself an even wider smile from the man.

Jooheon fans at his suddenly burning cheeks as the man turns on his heel to go back to the refrigerated section. A little while later he's back, placing another drink on the counter along with a bag of chips. "The weather's getting-" he says, but he's interrupted when his phone starts ringing. The man fishes his phone out of his pocket and gives the display a frustrated glare before answering, "This is Lee Minhyuk."

(Jooheon would have taken note of his name if he was a 14-year-old girl, scribbled it in his notebook at school, carved JH x MH on a tree trunk. But he's not a 14-year-old girl, so he's only going to be sighing that name tonight when he's all alone in his dark apartment, fist around himself as he's painting his gray sheets white.)

Minhyuk keeps talking on the phone while Jooheon finishes up his purchase, puts his drink and chips in a plastic bag and places his receipt next to it on the counter.

"Yes, yes, I know, I will," Minhyuk says. "Yes, sure, I'll be there. Wait a second." He looks around the counter, then up at Jooheon, holds his phone away from his mouth as he asks Jooheon for a pen. Jooheon hands him one and looks towards the doors as they open to let a new customer in. Minhyuk's quickly scribbling an address on the back of his receipt, then grabs his bag and flashes Jooheon a brief smile before he's out the doors, still speaking on the phone.

Jooheon looks down at the counter and notices the receipt is still there. He's about to shout at Minhyuk's back -- quickly getting smaller and smaller down the street outside -- that he forgot it, when he takes a closer look at the small piece of paper and notices it's not an address at all, but a phone number, along with what looks like a poem.

_ 'I'm your fighter fighter _

_ Higher higher higher _

_ Inside you is a fire, fire _

_ Champion champion'* _

#

(Jooheon's brain has no idea what to do with the information that Lee Minhyuk -- handsome customer and total stranger -- wrote him a poem. And a phone number. Luckily his hand knows. It slips the receipt into his nightstand drawer, handles it carefully like a fragile piece of Ming pottery.

Afterward, his hand is considerably more rough with himself than he was with the paper and his brain finally catches up, conjuring up image after image of those pretty, pink lips whispering words to him that sets him on fire, fire, brings him higher, higher, higher.

And really, he should feel disgusted with himself -- he sort of does, when his room is quiet again and he lies still in his bed, reflecting on his life choices -- but thoughts of the stranger makes him feel so good he can't bring himself to care. He reasons that what Minhyuk doesn't know, won't hurt him.)

#

It's been five months and Jooheon is about to stop counting. Any month now he'll stop. He hasn't touched the receipt since he received it, only looked at it like it's an invaluable piece of art. Look, but don't touch. But perhaps he should have touched it. Should have held it in his left hand while his right punched the number on it into his phone. Should have sent a message to that number. _' Why is it you? I'm going crazy. What is this? I think I've fallen for you.'_** But he's too much of a chicken to do it. Even if he wrote him a poem, even if he left him his number, Minhyuk is unattainable. He is handsome and gorgeous in every way Jooheon is not, and he can't understand why someone like him would see anything in a mere store clerk like Jooheon. Minhyuk is too beautiful for someone like Jooheon to handle.

Still, he can't shake the thought that the reason Minhyuk hasn't showed up in almost half a year is because Jooheon never contacted him. He had the chance, but he spoiled it. But it's not like Minhyuk was a regular; he's only visited the store three times. Jooheon and Minhyuk are complete strangers. Minhyuk probably doesn't even live in the area. Maybe he prefers another convenience store chain. Maybe he's forgotten about Jooheon. He probably wasn't even interested in him; he meant to bring the poem to whoever he spoke on the phone with, but forgot it on the counter as he left in a rush.

Jooheon's the only one who spends his nights with the memory of a stranger he's seen three times at the back of his eyelids, the name of said stranger on his lips. Minhyuk's probably married to a woman, has three kids and a dog, lives in Paris on a display shelf of the Louvre, where he belongs.

Jooheon's unprofessionally leaning onto the counter, supporting his weight on his elbows as he's playing a game on his phone when movement outside makes him look up. The pale light of the early spring sun outside the storefront glints off a head of glossy hair, making it shine red. Jooheon's breath catches and his phone drops to the counter as Minhyuk strides through the doors. Jooheon's about to call the police because a museum has been robbed.

He knows he's gaping, knows he should shut his mouth and straighten his back, pick his phone up and welcome the customer, but he can't. He can't function properly when Minhyuk steps up to the counter and leans a slim hip against it with a smirk. Long fingers pluck Jooheon's phone up from where it's lying abandoned between them and start to close and open programs, typing something in.

"You know, when someone gives you their number, they want you to use it," Minhyuk brazenly tells him, then hands the phone back to Jooheon, who's still gaping at him in a very unattractive way. He pushes off the counter and turns down an aisle.

Jooheon regains the ability to move his body and looks down at his phone. Just like he thought, Minhyuk added himself into his contacts and Jooheon doesn't know how to feel. Mad, that Minhyuk nonchalantly shows up after all this time, right when Jooheon's decided to give up on ever seeing him again? Happy, that he got to see Minhyuk again? Put off, by Minhyuk's audacious assumption than he can just add his number in a stranger's phone without asking for permission like he's sure they want it? Ecstatic, that Minhyuk still wants him to have his number? Apologetic, because he's had five months to add him himself, but hasn't? Afraid, that Minhyuk thinks that that means Jooheon doesn't like him and couldn't care less about having his number? Nervous, because he doesn't know what to do now?

His phone beeps in his hand and he looks down at _' stop looking so scared'_ staring right back up at him, and he realizes Minhyuk must have used his phone to text himself Jooheon's number. The phone beeps again -- _' you're cuter when you smile'_ \-- and Jooheon slides down behind the counter, the backs of his hands to his hot cheeks. He doesn't know whether to smile or cry, his mind is a mess and his heart is beating entirely too fast. Hot strangers don't hit on Lee Jooheon. He has no idea what to do in a situation like this, it's not in the store workers' manual.

"Dropped something?"

Jooheon bends his neck to look up and locks eyes with Minhyuk who's leaning over the counter to peer down at him shamefully squatting on the dirty floor in his ugly, blue vest. Jooheon is horrified, but Minhyuk just smiles and he wants to cry because he wants to know how those lips taste like, but Minhyuk's gonna change his opinion about him now and he'll probably never see him again after this. If Minhyuk was ever interested in him, he's not going to be anymore now that he's seen Jooheon in this pathetic state he's been reduced to by a single text.

Jooheon takes a deep breath, then gets to his feet and brushes dust off his pants, ears burning. He schools his features into something he hopes resembles dignity and musters up his best professional store clerk voice. "Can I help you?"

Minhyuk's smile is immediate and blinding, as if he'd been waiting for Jooheon to ask. Perhaps he had been. "Yes, you can tell me your name. For now I've saved you as 'That's right', but I feel like your real name must be prettier. Oh, and I'm Lee Minhyuk by the way!"

Minhyuk's enthusiasm is infectious and Jooheon hears himself shyly telling him his name.

"I'm saving you as Joohoney!" Minhyuk declares, and Jooheon finds himself unable to protest.

#

(Minhyuk sends Jooheon a text a week after he forcefully exchanged numbers with him, _' I saw a bee and thought of you.'_ Three days later he texts Jooheon that he's eating cake, but thinks Jooheon's sweeter. Wishes he could eat him instead. Jooheon's brain malfunctions.

A month goes by with Minhyuk occasionally sending Jooheon a text, but Jooheon never answers. He doesn't understand why Minhyuk does it. Doesn't understand why a handsome stranger is texting him sweet words. They don't know each other, have never had a real conversation. His own fascination with Minhyuk is all based on looks. He knows that.

You can get to know him from now on, a part of him whispers. Get to know the man behind the brilliant smile and mischievous, bright eyes. Isn't that why he gave you his number? Because he's interested in getting to know you? He saw you, thought you where cute, wanted to know more about you. Gave you a chance, wanted you to take it.

So two months in, when Minhyuk sends him a selfie worthy of being on the cover of a fashion magazine -- hair now a beautiful blueish-blond color, lips puckered in a pout -- with the caption _' you never answer'_, Jooheon makes up his mind and snaps a selfie of himself. Tries to, at least. He's never gotten the hang of the perfect angle. But he doesn't have more than one chin and his dimples show so he thinks it's okay. _' Sorry,'_ he writes.)

#

"Hey, couple hair!" is the first thing Minhyuk says to him, three months after their last encounter.

Jooheon wants to tell him he bleached his hair blond because he wanted to try something new, not because Minhyuk's hair looked pretty in that one selfie he sent. And like a lovestruck teenager he imitated his crush to feel closer to him. He wants to tell Minhyuk he bleached his hair because he was tired of having brown hair, but he's distracted by how much better Minhyuk's hair looks in reality compared to the photo, so he doesn't say anything at all. Talking while looking at Minhyuk is advanced multitasking he's incapable of.

"It looks good on you," Minhyuk praises.

Jooheon started answering Minhyuk's texts after they exchanged selfies a month ago. Always answering; he was never the one who initiated contact. Minhyuk never called him out on it, for which Jooheon is grateful. He wants to text him, talk to him, be the first one to send a good morning text in the morning. Tell Minhyuk he was drinking a limited edition drink and thought of him, just because. But Jooheon's still insecure and nervous, afraid this dream will end and he'll wake up, Minhyuk's smile a blurry memory, a remnant of interrupted sleep at the back of his mind, just out of reach, too distant to call to mind but close enough to taunt him for the rest of time.

"It's hard to bleach it that light, isn't it? Takes a long time."

Jooheon enjoys Minhyuk's texts, enjoys texting him back, even more now that he knows more about him than in the beginning. He knows Minhyuk's a year older than him, likes shopping and pizza, would be good at cooking if he tried -- he just prefers takeout and instant meals. He knew Minhyuk was beautiful the first time he saw him, but if he's learned anything from exchanging texts with him, it's that he's even more beautiful on the inside.

Jooheon's completely and irrevocably captured by the bright light of his beauty.

"The first time I tried bleaching my hair it ended up this awful yellow-orange color and I almost cried."

Jooheon's convinced this is all a dream. He doesn't deserve the attention of someone like Lee Minhyuk. Gorgeous inside and out. He should really call the Louvre. He needs to give Minhyuk back, it's too dangerous for him to be running free in this dirty, ugly world. Minhyuk needs to be admired, praised, looked at from a distance. Caged in glass, with an alarm that goes off if it's ever broken, if someone ever tries to hurt him. So close, but yet so far, just out of reach.

It's been a year since they first met, and Jooheon is now getting to know him, that greasy-looking, tired stranger that scuffed his feet over the floor in exhaustion. The man of whom Jooheon's initial first impression should have been one of disgust, but was one of intrigue and curiosity, and maybe, just maybe back then he already wanted to get to know him better, because against the odds he saw something in him.

Perhaps he already knew, one year ago, that the man's outward appearance hid a brilliant angel.

Minhyuk radiates a light so bright it lights up the whole store and makes Jooheon go blind, but even so he wants him to keep shining forever, keep being the shining light that lights up his dreary world.

#

The next time Minhyuk comes into the store it's just to buy a bottled iced tea to beat the oppressing heat and humidity of summer. He drinks it while chatting with Jooheon at the counter, soaking in the air conditioning of the store and pulling his sticky shirt off his chest to cool down. Jooheon tries not to look at the way his adam's apple bobs when he takes greedy gulps or the way a bead of sweat runs down his throat do disappear between his collarbones.

Even sweaty with slightly matted blueish-blond hair, Minhyuk remains beautiful and pretty. He shines like a twinkling star in Jooheon's eyes.

Minhyuk puts his empty bottle down after a while and turns to Jooheon with a serious look in his eyes. Their inane chatter tapers off. Jooheon waits with bated breath for Minhyuk to speak, feeling inexplicably nervous as the air around them seems to shift the longer Minhyuk's eyes looks deeply into his own.

"You're like gravity," Minhyuk muses in a low voice, deeper and unlike his usual bright tone. Jooheon can feel it in his bones. "I can't resist you; you keep pulling me back to this store. Sometimes when I'm feeling down I find myself thinking about you."

Jooheon wouldn't be able to answer even if he tried to; there's a lump in his throat that is hard to swallow. What is this? Is this a confession? Why would Minhyuk confess to him? He has no idea how to react, he can only feel himself getting pulled further into Minhyuk's eyes and he understands what the man meant when he talked about gravity. Minhyuk's eyes are sucking him in like gravity -- or, perhaps black holes would be a more accurate term. Minhyuk's eyes are threatening to suck him in completely and never let him go. It's at the same time both exciting and terrifying. It's terrifyingly exciting and he can't wait to see what it's like on the inside.

#

(They text more frequently during the rest of summer, even call each other a few times. Jooheon loses his inhibitions and contacts Minhyuk whenever he wants to. He sends him pictures of the neighborhood dog, says it makes him think of Minhyuk. Texts him during slow hours at work, says he wishes Minhyuk was there to keep him company. Minhyuk sends him pictures of unfinished paintings, says they were inspired by him. Says he wishes he could keep Jooheon company too.

The hot days of summer turn gradually cooler. The vivid greens turn into yellows and reds. On his way to or from work, Jooheon wonders how the world looks through Minhyuk's eyes, if it looks more colorful, if he sees it in another way, a way that makes him capable of so skillfully transferring what he sees onto canvases. He wonders if he sees Jooheon next to him, the way he sees Minhyuk next to him as he walks over fallen leaves, the crisp air turning his ears red. He wonders if Jooheon is the one Minhyuk thinks of when he sees something interesting and wants to tell someone about it, like how Minhyuk is the one Jooheon thinks of.

He wonders if Minhyuk thinks about him as much as he thinks about Minhyuk.)

#

Several months pass by until they meet in person again. Hours pass by in a blink of an eye whenever they're talking on the phone, but days without contact trickle by like sand in an hourglass. They never bring up the subject of their sporadic meetings in the store. Jooheon's afraid that if he asks Minhyuk out or invites him to the store, Minhyuk will reject him. He'll tell Jooheon he's got it wrong, that he's not interested in him that way, just enjoys chatting with him whenever he happens to stop by the store. He wonders if Minhyuk feels the same way. If he feels that the spell will be broken if they make a deliberate decision to meet up, that the magic only exists within the four walls of the convenience store and in their phones. Outside is the muggle world, where magic is forbidden and their entire relationship -- whatever it is -- is based on it. Based on fragile magic that ceases to exist in the real world.

Jooheon eagerly whips his head up, turns toward the doors whenever the bell dings to signal to him that he's got a customer. He is disappointed every time, but he refuses to lose hope. He knows from experience that even if it takes months, Minhyuk will visit him again, enter the store with that bright smile and brighter eyes, a halo of light seemingly following him everywhere. Maybe that's magic too.

He's in the back room checking the stock when he hears the store doors open. He peeks out and his heart gets stuck in his throat at the sight of Minhyuk standing inside the doors, looking this way and that, searching for him. When he finds him half hidden by the back room door and they lock eyes, Minhyuk's eyes brighten and he gives him one of those big, beautiful smiles Jooheon feels completely unworthy of. He can only give him a tremulous smile in return, because, damn, does Minhyuk look good. His hair is no longer bleached blond or dyed a reddish-brown. It's a simple, basic black, but Jooheon thinks he might be the most handsome he's ever seen him.

He wants to step back into the room, hide in there until Minhyuk leaves because he doesn't know how to face him now that he finally gets to meet him again. Despite them texting regularly, telling each other more and more about themselves, seeing him in person is an entirely different thing. When in front of Minhyuk, Jooheon can't do two things at the same time; he has to choose between breathing or talking, staring or thinking. He wants to admire him like a painting and then sit down and write a love song about his impression of him, his feelings for him, what he thinks when he looks at him.

His love song would be full of corny lyrics and cheesy words that border on being stalkerish and possessive. He would tell Minhyuk how he's going crazy, doesn't ever want to let him go. He's like a lost wanderer who won't go, can't go, anywhere without him. He would tell him that when he sees him the time stops and he can't move. He would tell him how he wants to make him his.

Minhyuk starts towards him and Jooheon feels his own legs lead him out of the back room and into the store, pulled to him like gravity. Minhyuk stops in front of him, his bright smile suddenly slipping and he nervously clasps his hands together, then puts them in his pockets just to pull them out again and behind his back. The tip of his pink tongue comes out to moisten his lips.

"I'm just gonna come right out and say it, okay?" Minhyuk tells him, his voice breaking a bit at the end.

Jooheon thinks that this is it. This is where Minhyuk tells him that he's only ever texted him as a friend. This is where Minhyuk tells him that he won't ever be back to the store because he's finally returning back home to his glass cage in the Louvre. This is where Minhyuk tells him goodbye and leaves, bringing his shining light with him and leaving Jooheon in the dark. Did he finally get sucked into the dark abyss that is Minhyuk's eyes, the black holes that are predictably dark on the inside? Was it all a trap from the beginning? Is Minhyuk a magical creature who feeds on innocent people, deliberately gets close to them just to suck the soul out of them like a dementor?

Minhyuk takes a deep breath and then locks his eyes onto Jooheon's with an intensity Jooheon can't look away from. "Do you want to go on a date with me?"

Jooheon didn't know what Minhyuk was going to say, would have never guessed he would be asking him for a date, but his answer is immediate and clear when he says without having to think about it, feeling like he's won first place, "Yes, I do."

Minhyk's eyes widen and his mouth falls open slightly, as if he didn't think Jooheon would accept. "No way, am I dreaming? Is this a daydream?"

"I hope not," Jooheon finds himself saying. He really doesn't want this to be a dream. He doesn't want this happy ending to be a figment of his imagination, a sweet illusion, a defense mechanism saving his sanity from his real fate. He doesn't want to find out that what he thought was a patronus which saved him from the dementor, was just a wisp of mist, and his soul is sucked up, forever lost while the empty shell of Jooheon remains.

"Oh my god," Minhyuk exclaims, "I think I'm gonna go crazy!" He grabs Jooheon's shoulders with two strong hands and stares at him imploringly. "Are you really sure? You'll go on a date with me?"

Jooheon nods, first a bit timidly -- because Minhyuk is so intense and he still can't believe his luck -- but then more resolutely. He smiles at Minhyuk, his lips stretching into a wide smile on their own at the sight of Minhyuk so happy and eager, like a puppy who was given his favorite treat. He can't quite believe he was the one who put that smile on Minhyuk's face and it makes him feel a bit possessive. He wants to be the only one who's able to make Minhyuk smile like that, wants to be the only one Minhyuk directs that smile at.

Minhyuk squeals happily and pulls Jooheon to his chest in a hug and Jooheon thinks that he could stay in his arms forever. Being hugged by Minhyuk is an unforgettable, beautiful shock that doesn't give Jooheon a moment to breathe, but he finds out he doesn't need oxygen when he's surrounded by Minhyuk's scent. When he's trapped in Minhyuk's arms, everything in the background fades out, time stops but his heart is spinning.

He can't figure out the ending of their drama, but this scene is going towards the end. Jooheon's not sure what to do from now on, how to proceed from here, but he does know that in the next scene they will be together. He hopes that scene will keep on repeating.

* * *

Coincidence after coincidence led him here. Jooheon's boss asking his co-worker to go on an errand to another of their chain's stores, said co-worker getting sick, Jooheon being sent on the errand instead and going to the wrong store on the opposite side of town, another co-worker ultimately being called in to go in his stead. So now Jooheon's got free time, the entire afternoon unexpectedly off work.

He's strolling through unknown streets when a loud laugh grabs his attention. He spots two men exiting a building up the street. One of them bows in response to the other's wave, his bleached hair glinting in the sunlight, before he slips back inside, the other walking away and disappearing around a corner.

When he gets closer, Jooheon sees that the building houses a gallery. He stops outside to look inside the floor-to-ceiling windows, takes in the people milling around the art exhibition inside, admiring the artwork filling the walls. He's not an artsy person, usually. He doesn't understand art. Sure, some paintings are beautiful, amazing even. But for the most part, Jooheon doesn't have the patience to slowly walk through a gallery and contemplate the colors and techniques used to create the paintings.

He really doesn't belong here, he thinks, as he opens the door and steps inside. He feels like he's trespassing, like someone will notice he knows nothing about art and throw him out. But one of the paintings beckons to him and he walks closer. He shouldn't be here, but the painting is pretty and he can actually recognize what it's supposed to look like. He barely remembers terms like neoclassicism and impressionism from school, and he's pretty sure the art in this gallery belong to neither style, but that's as far as Jooheon's knowledge goes. He can appreciate the colors used, though. He doesn't know how the painting was made, exactly, but can appreciate the time the artist spent on it, to get it just right.

He ends up spending an hour at the exhibition and he doesn't regret it, doesn't think it was a waste of time, wouldn't even mind going to the artist's next exhibition. It's only when he's already left that he realizes he never took note of the artist's name.

He goes back the next day -- feeling like he's trespassing again, sneaking around like a thief -- to find out the name, only to find the exhibition gone. Doors locked and room inside the windows empty, walls bare and white, as if nothing was ever there.

#

Jooheon's usually not late for work. He doesn't oversleep often. Well, not _that _ often. Just occasionally. Like every now and then, because who doesn't? Besides, being the store manager should give him some privileges, right? It might just be a small convenience store, but a manager is a manager and Jooheon's usually very responsible. The owner always praises him, tells him he's her best employee, especially when Jooheon flashes her his irresistible dimples. No one can say no to Jooheon's dimples -- he totally knows that -- and he's not afraid to take advantage of that fact whenever necessary. Like it will be if he doesn't get to work in the next ten seconds.

He wants to shout at the bus driver to hurry up, but he knows it would be useless. The street is congested and it's not the driver's fault they're not getting anywhere. He presses the stop button and gets off a couple stops before his own, because he knows there's a shortcut he can take on foot from here. He rushes out of the bus the moment the doors open and crashes right into a lanky body, both of them stumbling at the impact. Jooheon sees blond hair from out of the corner of his eye -- a foreigner? -- and apologizes in both Korean and English, just in case, before he's off again, rushing down a narrow alleyway towards work.

#

There's repeated honking from a number of vehicles in the street, which is not exactly unusual in this part of Seoul. Minhyuk still looks, wonders what's going on. A car breaks, swerves to the side, as if avoiding something in the street. Disgruntled drivers, worried onlookers.

There's a flash of red, bright like a stoplight, as a boy -- a young man, perhaps -- rushes into the street, dodging cars as he makes his way through six lanes of busy Seoul traffic, arms waving and hair shining like a beacon in the sun.

Minhyuk can't see his face, but he is horrified at the sight. What is that guy thinking? Is he trying to kill himself? He wants to shout at him to stop, to be careful-

He loses sight of the boy -- one second he's there, the next he's gone, just gone -- and Minhyuk's afraid he's been hit. This is gonna be on the news. Minhyuk's going to be interviewed as a witness. The boy's parents are going to be sobbing in the background and Minhyuk's going to be blamed for not warning the boy of the dangers of running into rush hour traffic.

Suddenly there's a flash of red again as the boy's head pops back up in between cars, one hand held high in triumph. Someone on the sidelines claps their hands and Minhyuk looks closer at the boy, notices the tiny kitten held firmly in his hand. Minhyuk lets out an involuntary laugh -- of relief and disbelief both -- as the boy safely makes his way through the rest of the cars to the other side of the street, kitten protectively hugged to his chest.

Maybe this will be on the news after all. Minhyuk would gladly volunteer to be interviewed as a witness, tell everyone all about how the brave, red-haired hero saved the kitten.

* * *

Minhyuk knows he's looking awful and he feels even worse. He hasn't showered, had a proper meal or slept in days. Work has been brutal, but now he's finally got some days off to rest and he can't wait to spend them in his bed with boxes of pizza as his company. He almost falls asleep waiting for his bus and it isn't until he's already gotten on and it turns at an unfamiliar intersection that he realizes it's the wrong bus. Too exhausted to even get annoyed, he gets off at the next stop, staggers a bit as he steps down on the pavement and takes in his surroundings. It's dark outside and the rain that fell earlier in the evening has left puddles of water on the ground. A brightly lit convenience store beckons him from the other side of the street and his stomach growls at it in greeting.

He drags his feet across the street and enters the store, receiving a cheerful greeting from the young man behind the counter. His voice is unexpectedly pleasant in his ears, made overly sensitive from his pounding headache. He turns to look at a pleasant, dimply smile and eyes so small they look like two lines from this distance. Soft-looking round cheeks. Short, brown hair tops it all off.

Minhyuk's ashamed of his own greasy hair, oily skin and shirt that probably reeks of sweat from him wearing it for three days straight.

He quickly -- as quickly as he can muster up the strength to lift his feet and drag them across the floor -- fetches a bottle of soju and cup noodles, figuring he'll eat it after ordering his pizza and waiting for it to arrive. He goes back for another bottle, just in case he'll need it.

He approaches the cashier, who's already looking at him. Not in disgust, as Minhyuk would have thought, but in a sort of wonder. As if he finds him fascinating, as if he doesn't look and smell like he's been rolling in a dumpster, as if he's worth looking at even in his current state.

Minhyuk's tired and hungry and lost and doesn't know where his scalp sweat ends and his neck sweat begins, but as the cashier fumbles with his change and gives him a nervous smile, all he can think of is how he would like to have those shy eyes look at him again some time, when he has showered and is dressed in clean clothes. He wonders if the look in them would change. From curiosity to disinterest? Or curiosity to admiration? He wonders if the man looks at him because he looks like a homeless person, or because he's interested in knowing why? If he is interested in knowing who he is under the days-old grease.

Maybe he'll find out one day.

<<<<>>>>

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for reading!  
> This is my first fic on AO3 and my first Monsta X fic. It's also the first fanfiction I've written in years, so this was sort of a practice story to get back into writing. I don't know what tone I was going for with this story and it turned out pretty messy. The Harry Potter references appeared out of nowhere are were completely unintentional. Still, I hope someone found it at least a little enjoyable.
> 
> *Monsta X - Fighter  
> **Monsta X - Beautiful  
> Also contains scattered lyrics and inspiration from the following Monsta X songs: All in, Stuck, Fighter, Beautiful, Shine Forever, Newton, Dramarama, Trespass, Rush, Hero.


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